What Should Have Been
by cherryredxx
Summary: Draco learns the hard way that there's only so much time. Non-epilogue compliant.


**A/N:** I've been working on this one-shot for over five months, and I was finally able to finish this! I kept finding challenges on HPFC to aid in plot progression, so there are several different ones incorporated into this one-shot. This story combines _four _different challenges: The Secret Relationship challenge, Originality in Your Favorite Pairing challenge, OTP Boot Camp challenge (**prompt**: battered), AND the Fall from Grace challenge. Hope you like it! :)

* * *

Gasping for breath as though the wind had been knocked from him, Draco awoke with a start. All of his muscles were stiff and his throat was bone dry. Almost desperately, he reached for the full glass of water on his night stand, the one he had set out in preparation for what he knew would plague him in the night. The water was gulped down within seconds. He breathed a sigh of relief as he felt the cool liquid pulsing through his system.

He set the empty glass down and ran a hand through his shaggy blond hair, which had been hanging loosely in front of his eyes. It was, for Draco, an uncharacteristically nervous gesture. His shaking hands reached out for a cigarette, which he quickly lit with his wand. He hated smoking – the uncomfortable feeling of suffocation as the smoke filtered through his windpipe and into his lungs – but he was willing to try anything in order to calm his nerves. Anything to make him forget what he had just seen in his dreams.

The dreams, though, were less like manifestations of Draco's subconscious thoughts and more like visions – prophecies, perhaps. He didn't know how he knew that that's what he had been seeing each night, but he just did. Occasionally he would recall past events – some being pleasant memories, others not. But they were all connected. Someone, somewhere, somehow, was trying to tell him something. It was most unfortunate, in Draco's opinion, that whatever entity powerful enough to control his mind had chosen to do so in the middle of the night.

Draco turned on his shower and slowly removed his clothing. He made sure that the water was scalding hot, as if trying to burn out the dreams that had been imprinted in his memory. The vision that he had just experienced had been more haunting than any of the others. It hadn't shown him death, destruction, and poverty as so many others had if he were to continue down the path he was on. It hadn't been scary or sad. Quite the contrary, his most recent dream had shown him happiness, and that was something that he simply could not handle.

Or rather, the person he had seen was _someone_ he could not handle.

He placed his palms flat against the tiled walls within the shower stall, placing his face directly in the water. As it streamed over his face, he inhaled sharply several times as he took in fragmented, shallow breaths. It felt like he was drowning – both physically and metaphorically.

* * *

_Six Years Earlier_

A condition of the Malfoys being able to hold onto their estate and their money after the War was that they donate some of it to what the Ministry deemed to be "worthwhile causes." Though his father had been appalled at the idea of giving away his Galleons to charities that he felt to be rather insignificant, Draco thought this to be a small price to pay for him to continue living the lifestyle that he had become accustomed to throughout his life. As a result, the Malfoy heir was generally the one in attendance at charity events in lieu of his parents.

It was at one in particular that he learned a very valuable lesson: whoever said that redheads should never wear red was terribly, terribly mistaken.

From across the hall, Draco watched as the youngest Weasley entered the room. Her hair was pinned up into a loose knot with curly ringlets surrounding her face, and she wore a t-length red dress that showed off her subtle curves. Briefly, he wondered if any of her brothers had noticed what she was wearing before she had left the house. However, he dismissed all thoughts and exchanged them with the insane notion that he needed to talk to her. Immediately.

Quickly, he gathered up two glasses of merlot and sauntered across the room as hurriedly as possible without making himself appear to be in a rush. Smoothly, he offered Ginny one of the flutes.

She cocked her head to the side, eyeing him skeptically for a long moment, before accepting the proffered drink. "Thanks, Malfoy," she responded simply, taking a small sip of the burgundy beverage. "I had no idea that you were interested in the animal shelter."

It took him a moment to realize what she was talking about. In seeing her, he completely forgot that his entire purpose for the evening was to show off how well-rounded the Malfoys were in supporting various charities. The one that was being fundraised on that particular evening pertained to domestic animals and their rights, which was something that Draco found amusing. Perhaps that was the only reason that he had any idea which charity he was in support of that night.

"Oh, yes, animals. Very much so." He took a large gulp of his wine.

The redhead crossed her arms over her chest, seemingly unconvinced of Draco's sincerity. "Well, in that case, what do you propose we do about the overcrowding of animals at the shelter?" she questioned. "Obviously we wouldn't want to hurt any healthy animals, but it is becoming quite a problem. I, for one, am certainly an advocate for euthanizing as few as possible."

Draco stared at Ginny. Having no opinion on the matter – or even any idea what she was going on about – he wasn't quite sure how to answer her question properly. It was a rare occurrence during which Draco Malfoy was struck speechless.

She appeared amused and crossed her arms over her chest. "So why don't you tell me why you're really here this evening?" Ginny enquired. "Please leave out the rubbish that you had been trying to hand me a bit ago."

He had to admit that he was impressed. She was pretty _and_ fierce. It was both an intriguing and a dangerous combination, but he couldn't help but be drawn in by her natural charisma, her sharp wit, and her immense beauty.

* * *

Forcefully, he slammed the body of the petite redhead against the wall as his lips attacked her neck – biting, sucking, kissing – as her fingertips dug into his back. He moaned as he felt her hands go to his trousers, making quick work of unbuckling him and releasing his aching desire. His hands went to the tapered edges of her thin red dress, pushing it up and revealing her black cotton knickers. He entered her almost urgently, pushing against her, making the jagged edges of the brick wall dig into the bare skin of her back.

Her moans permeated through his mind, spurring him on and increasing his want for her. She took everything he gave her, giving back in equal amounts. The intensity of the moment increased. He felt her pulsing against him, almost quivering, as she reached her crest. Her head lulled back and her eyes closed, but Draco's continued movements were still answered by her own frantic thrusts.

He felt the moment coming to a close as he released himself inside of her. In a calming moment, he rested his forehead against her chest, inhaling her flowery scent. His body was numb and he could still feel as her body reverberated with pleasure. Considering the amount of alcohol that they had each ingested during the charity event, he was surprised at how heightened the sexual sensation had been.

Ginny's heart rate returned to a less dangerous pace, and Draco slid himself from her almost reluctantly, allowing her to slide down the wall and back onto her feet. She looked up at him, her face calm and her eyes glazed over. Her hair had been mussed and the spaghetti strap of her dress had fallen slightly down her arm, but to him, she looked unbelievably perfect.

Draco had stared at her for so long that he nearly jumped in surprise when she loudly cleared her throat.

"So, um," Ginny began, her eyes still attached to his, "I suppose I had better get back to the party. This is my charity, after all."

"I guess you should," he said, successfully hiding the tone of disappointment in his voice.

She bit her lip and continued to look at him. He could tell she felt the same way that he did – not wanting to look away, but knowing that it was necessary.

"I'll see you around then?" she offered. "After all, you are an avid supporter of animal rights, aren't you?"

Involuntarily, the corners of his lips turned up. He knew he'd make an excuse to see her again, no matter what.

* * *

Draco turned off the water, his skin still flushed and pink from the intense heat. He kept still for a long moment, allowing his mind a chance to stop reeling, to stop thinking about the girl who had changed his life.

Ginny. It had always been Ginny.

He opened the crystal door, grasping onto the red towel he had set out for himself. Of course he had chosen red, he thought. His subconscious was refuting any opportunity for him to remove Ginny from his mind. She was plaguing him in his dreams, and now in his wake.

The day when he'd met her still seemed as vivid as the day that it had actually occurred. Well, he'd met her before – on several occasions – but it still seemed remarkable that the Ginny, the gorgeous animal activist, was the grown up version of the little girl he'd seen all those years ago in the bookstore with dirt on her nose, defending the honor of Harry Potter. Still, shagging her against a wall in a dirty alley outside a formal charity event was the moment in which Draco Malfoy had become completely enthralled with Ginny Weasley. She was a girl who appeared to be tame and polite in public, but was vivacious and wild beneath the surface.

But their feelings for one another had never been completely even. She'd wanted to tell her family and friends that she'd been involved with a Malfoy. She had insisted that they would never have cared, that they'd accept what they had, even if it took a bit of time to get used to. But he couldn't do that. He couldn't tarnish his reputation with her ugly name.

He remembered the night that it had all fallen to pieces – the night he'd told her they were finished. She'd sat on his leather sofa, swirling he champagne glass in her hand wordlessly. After he'd dropped that bomb on her, she'd been quiet, and he had refused to show any sort of emotion towards. There was no reaction to the skimpy clothing she'd chosen for the evening, nor was there any response to the fact that she'd left her hair down – loose and curly – just like he'd asked her to time and again.

She had bit her lip and set her drink on the coffee table. Slowly, she'd approached him. Her hands immediately began working at the buttons on his shirt – undressing him slowly as his grey eyes bored into her. She'd lifted her eyes to match his once all of the buttons had been undone, but as she slipped her hands into his open shirt, he grabbed her, forcefully yanking her hands from him. He would not allow her to convince him to change his mind.

He'd shoved her across the room, hard.

She'd fallen onto the coffee table, spilling her champagne all over her dress and onto the carpet. Stunned, she'd begun to struggle with sitting up, keeping her grace as in tact as possible. But before she'd managed to get to her feet, his strong hands clasped onto her upper arms, forcing her to her feet and shoving her towards the door.

He hadn't seen her since. Not in person, anyway.

He pressed his fingers into his eyes, desperately trying to erase these thoughts from his mind and bringing himself back to reality. The last thing he wanted was to relive the night he'd lost his temper. He had physically hurt Ginny, and the thought of that night made him sick to his stomach.

So why was he seeing her so vividly now? Why were his dreams being haunted by her memory?

He needed to see her again. He needed to tell her that he was sorry for what he had done to her – hurting her, abusing her, destroying her. The image of her face, stunned and confused, refused to leave him alone. It brought him to his knees, both wanting and needing her forgiveness in order to move on from this.

Or perhaps it was more. Perhaps she had never been meant to be a memory at all.

* * *

The morning came as the sunlight filtered through the translucent curtains. The prophetic dreams he had had the night before were still as clear as day. Her face, battered and broken, as he dismissed her attempts to solidify their relationship was still equally as haunting as it had been the last time he had seen her.

Because of his family's association with the animal charity that Ginny fundraised for, Draco had access to her address. He dressed quickly and exited his flat, wasting no time on fixing his hair or attempting to wear his best clothing. He knew well enough that she would not be impressed with such things. She probably wouldn't be impressed by his seeking her out, either, but seeing her again was something he had to do.

Her building was in downtown London near the shelter. From the outside, it appeared worn and dingy and improperly maintained. There was graffiti painted all over the dull bricks with several shattered windows scattered amongst the many stories. Inwardly, Draco cringed at the sight. He hated the idea of Ginny living there, but beyond that, he hated that he could have prevented it. She could have been with him. She _should_ have been.

The inside did not prove much better in terms of appearance. There was no lift and there seemed to be overflowing rubbish bins around every corner.

After Draco found her door and knocked, her front door opened a crack almost immediately, revealing a worn set of brown eyes peering through the narrow space. There were creases around her eyes and lips, and her red hair was tied back into a messy twist. She looked a lot older than she had the last time he had seen her and a lot more tired. It took a second, but there was a flicker in her expression as Ginny stared at the man on the other side. He knew that she realized who he was when her eyes suddenly became very hard.

"What do you want?" she asked, her voice rough, like she'd smoked a pack of cigarettes every day of her life.

He swallowed, suddenly struck speechless. Draco hadn't expected her to be so harsh and hollow. She was supposed to still be as young and vibrant as she had appeared in all of his visions. She was supposed to be smiles and sarcasm, caustic wit, and infallible fierceness. Not aged and broken. Not frail and weak. Not a hollowed shell of who she used to be.

"Gin – Ginny?"

"Yeah," she answered harshly. "Yeah, it's me. What do you want?

His eyes fell to the floor, the old ugly carpet that had frayed around the doorframe and been stained with years of life, much like the woman in the doorway. He cleared his throat loudly before forcing himself to match her gaze. "I – uh – I've just been thinking about you a lot lately."

"That's just wonderful," she responded sarcastically. "I'm surprised that you remember me at all."

"Of course I do."

"How touching." She reached behind her and grabbed her pack of cigarettes, lighting one immediately. "Come to reminisce about the good times? We had a few, didn't we?"

He gulped, a pang in his chest telling him that he had been wrong all along. Those dreams weren't prophecies at all. There was no way in the world that the girl he had seen in those visions still existed in the slightest. All that was left was her a body and a sharp tongue devoid of all humor. Instead, his thoughts had simply been mocking him with images of what could have been.

What should have been.

What possibly still could be.

"Ginny, I –"

"Draco, it's been too long," she said, her voice solemn and empty. Her eyes were almost soft, like she knew what he had come for. Like she almost sympathized with him, but not quite. "I can't do this. I can't see you."

He closed his eyes briefly and took a breath. This was pointless. There was nothing there, no hidden chemistry between former lovers, no unbidden feelings of longing that had filled her with hope, and certainly no desire to be knocked around by a man who was far too unstable for his own good. He had had one chance, and he'd ruined it long before.

There was only one thing left for him to do. "Sorry I bothered you."

The blond turned to leave, hearing the click of her door shutting.

At least now he knew.


End file.
